The Distant Threshold
The east wing of the university library did not collapse; it exhaled. One moment, the vaulted ceiling held its breath above the stacks of comparative literature; the next, a groan of oak and plaster tore through the silence, and the world turned to dust. I was three floors up, in my office, when the floorboards buckled beneath my feet. I saw the light die in the corridor below, swallowed by a...
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